


Two Solitudes

by the_rogue_bitch



Series: The Yearning of the Sword [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, Ichigo has needs, Male Bonding, Masturbation, Renji drops science like Galileo dropped the orange, Rukia has intimacy issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rogue_bitch/pseuds/the_rogue_bitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For obvious reasons, Ichigo had reached his twenties with little to no experience with girls and women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Solitudes

**Author's Note:**

> Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other. -- Rainer Maria Rilke, _Letters to a Young Poet_.
> 
> Warning, here be smut! And there will be more smut in the ensuing chapters!

_Go-gatsu._

For obvious reasons, Ichigo had reached his twenties with little to no experience with girls and women. He had become a Soul Reaper at 15 and there had been the war and other misadventures and no extra time or energy for romantic pursuits. And then he had fixated on Rukia, his heart making her the exclusive focus of his attention.

Of course, it wasn’t just his heart that was involved in the proceedings. With Rukia playing keep-away with her emotions _and_ her body, Ichigo was discovering a whole new level of frustration. He wanted to treat his relationship with Rukia as sacred and transcendent of physical gratification, but -- he wanted more than just kisses. The memory of kisses, now, since they hadn’t gotten together after that night. Since he wasn’t fighting for his life every day, he had space in his life and mind to fantasize. 

And fantasize he did.

It was usually in the morning, when Ichigo would awake with an erection straining the front of his pajamas anyway, that he would let his imagination guide his hand.

He would remember the warm, intimate weight of Rukia in his lap as they kissed. And the way Rukia kissed him! If she was reticent in the other ways she dealt with Ichigo, she more than made up for it with her kisses. Her hands had warmly held his face while her lips and tongue had alternated between playfulness and heat. Ichigo couldn’t decide what he liked better: the hot surge of her tongue in his mouth, tangling around his, wringing gasps from him and the small moans she made as she did it, or the short nipping kisses Rukia peppered onto his lips like rain, making him laugh in surprise and delight. He had liked the way she gripped his hair while she kissed him. 

In all honesty, there really wasn’t anything he hadn’t liked about the experience of kissing Rukia. She had conquered and claimed him completely just by that alone.

These sensations would run together in Ichigo’s mind as his hand moved up and down his cock, moving his foreskin and pinching it closed until the head emerged, his fingertips becoming slick with fluid, his hand sliding down. Ichigo would moan into the crook of his elbow as he curled around himself and his hand moved faster, squeezed tighter, and his brain could only stutter Rukia, Rukia.

Or sometimes he would have to do it at night, before bed, so that he could sleep. Rukia’s distant behavior during the day confused him so much that he was too tense to fall asleep without the help. 

And then there were the dreams, which were intensely erotic. They never woke him, but he was presented with the sticky evidence in the morning.

This went on for far longer than Ichigo liked, although he couldn’t feel bad about the fantasies he had and his self-pleasure, since it was all he was being allowed. Rukia hadn’t come to visit, wouldn’t be alone with him, and treated him as coolly as she ever had in front of other people. All of a sudden she was too busy to take walks with Ichigo, or come see him in the evenings. He was getting sick of hearing “no, I have work to do.”

When Ichigo had told her he would be patient, he had neglected to put a timeline on it, which he was now regretting. He was also letting Rukia set the entire agenda, and that wasn’t what he wanted either. His first instinct, and his usual tactic, of barging in and demanding an explanation didn’t seem like it would play out very well in this situation, but he didn’t know what to do. This was beyond his experience. He also didn’t know who he could talk to about it, since he was pretty sure Rukia hadn’t told anyone anything either, and he wanted to at least respect that. But he wasn’t sure where the line between respect and passivity lay, and that bothered him.

If this was another test of his resolve, Ichigo felt that he was failing miserably, but he couldn’t see any good resolution.

One night Renji came by with the usual jug of sake and they sat out on the steps, drinking. Ichigo was close to the end of his school term and thinking about visiting his family for part of summer break. Getting away seemed like a good idea.

“Must’ve been some fight you had with Rukia,” Renji said, taking a deep swig from the jug and passing it to Ichigo.

“What? Why? What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen the two of you go this long without speaking. Or act so awkward when you run into each other. What was it about?”

Ichigo didn’t say anything, he just took a mouthful of sake and swallowed it down. He rested his forearms on his knees and stared moodily into the middle distance. Renji plucked the jug from Ichigo’s unresisting hand when it looked like he wasn’t going to pass it back of his own volition.

“Did you ask Rukia?” Ichigo said, not looking at Renji.

“I did. Got pretty much the same answer, too, although she gave me her death glare and you’re just moping.”

“I am not moping,” Ichigo stated with careful precision. Renji had brought some _potent_ sake.

“You are. So what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“No, really, that’s the problem. Nothing is happening. We had a really serious conversation and since then, nothing.”

“She was honest with you?”

“Yup.”

“What about?”

“I can’t tell you,” Ichigo took another swig of sake, feeling his brains swirl around in his head like it was a snow globe.

“Funny, that’s what she said, too.”

“She did?” Ichigo looked over at Renji hopefully. “Did she say anything else?”

“What do I look like, a Hell Butterfly? Go ask her yourself.”

“I don’t think she wants to see me,” Ichigo lamented.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course she wants to see you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know Rukia better than anyone. And I know she’s missing you. So why don’t you grow a pair, swallow your pride, and otherwise man up. Go see her. Apologize, if you have to. Don’t make her regret her honesty.”

“Why can’t she man up, grow a pair, and come see me?”

“I just told you not to be stupid,” Renji punched Ichigo on the shoulder, which nearly knocked Ichigo off the step. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Hmph,” Ichigo sulked.

“Man, shut up. You know how Rukia is. She’ll walk across live coals before she’ll tell you how she feels. And if she does tell you how she feels, she makes you regret it, so that you can’t hurt her with it first.”

“That’s exactly what’s she’s doing!”

“So why are you acting like her worst fears coming true?”

Ichigo grabbed the jug away from Renji. “I’m _not_.”

“If you care about her, you have to find a way to selectively ignore the crap she throws at you. Don’t let her boss you around.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. She bosses you plenty.”

“I only let her get her way when it’s important to her and not to me. I argue when I think she’s wrong. She knows that. You need to learn the difference.”

Ichigo groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “Ugh, why is Rukia making this so difficult?”

“Because whatever it is that you talked about scares her.”

A realization surfaced in Ichigo’s sake-soaked brain. “You know, don’t you.”

Renji looked serious all of a sudden, and a little sad. “Of course I do. You are both so wildly transparent you might as well be glass.”

“Oh, great, another thing for her to be mad at me about,” muttered Ichigo, moving into the maudlin stage of his drunkenness.

This time Renji clotheslined Ichigo off the step. He sprawled on his back in the grass.

“Hey!”

“I told you to stop being stupid. I thought you were a man. If you want Rukia, go get her. Make her know it.” Renji took another drink of sake as Ichigo wove to his feet, and carefully sat back down on the step. “She’ll never tell you, but that’s what she wants. Give it to her.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Just be there. Even when it seems like she doesn’t want you to be. Disappear when she needs to be alone. Figure her out.”

“Does getting drunk actually make you smarter, Pineapple?”

“Trust me, Strawberry, I am not that drunk.”

Ichigo held out the jug.

“Then you need to catch up.”

**

Ichigo woke the next day with a monster headache. He had a vague memory of Renji hauling him into his room and dropping him unceremoniously onto his futon, and then leaving.

He was still in full shihakusho, which was not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. Aside from the detested fundoshi, which was redefining ‘constriction’.

Ichigo groaned and got up. He stripped in front of his sink and sluiced ice cold water over his head, pouring it into his mouth and swallowing it, shocking himself awake.

Today was the day he pushed back against Rukia’s avoidance tactics.

**

Ichigo knocked on Rukia’s office door, then opened it without waiting. Her glare didn’t alter when she saw him, but the rest of her expression became mask-like.

“What are you doing here?” 

“I have exams coming up and I thought I’d study in here with you,” Ichigo said nonchalantly, sitting on the floor with his back against Rukia’s desk.

“You can’t study in here! Go to the library or something!”

“Why can’t I study in here? Trust me, I won’t distract you from your work. I have plenty to do.”

“Your very presence is distracting!”

“Hey, Midget, if you keep yelling at me, people are going to hear you and wonder what you’re so pissed off about,” Ichigo said, grinning, even though she couldn’t see him. A book landed on his head, pushed off the desk by Rukia. “Ow! Hey! I’m not leaving, no matter what you do, so you’d better make up your mind to ignore me.”

Ichigo opened a book and started reading and making notes. He smiled to himself as he heard Rukia huff in annoyance and start her paperwork again.

They worked in silence for a while, then Ichigo threw down his gauntlet.

“By the way, I want my key back.”

Rukia’s pen stopped scratching.

“Why?” she said, her tone neutral.

“Well, you’re obviously not using it, so I’ll give it to someone else or something. Maybe I’ll let Renji have it in case I lock myself out.”

“How do you know I’m not going to use it?”

“You’ve had it for almost three weeks and haven’t used it yet. It doesn’t seem like you’re going to, so I want it back.”

“You said you were going to be patient,” Rukia sounded hurt and a little bit...pouty? Ichigo resisted the urge to turn and gaze upon this phenomenon.

“Being patient does not mean going backwards, Rukia. You’ve been avoiding me and I see you even less than I did before I confessed my feelings to you. That is not what I wanted when I gave you my key. I’m done waiting for you to make a move.”

“I am not giving your key back.” 

Ichigo turned and faced Rukia, looking up at her from the floor, his expression fierce.

“Then use it! Use it for any reason, or none! Come see me and we’ll sit on my steps and talk, or do work together at my table. When you have nightmares about the war -- and I know you do -- come to me so I can comfort you.” Ichigo threw his arms out for emphasis, then dropped them at his sides. “Don’t take my key and give me false hope. I miss you. I want to see you. I thought you wanted to see me.”

Rukia put her pen down and sighed. She rubbed her hands over her face, and then looked at Ichigo.

“I can’t talk about this here.”

“Well, you’re going to have to. I am not leaving and I’m not waiting for you to come to my place anymore. Are you sorry about what happened?”

“Of course not! Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid. I don’t know what you want, Rukia. You wanted me to be patient, so I didn’t push and I didn’t make any demands, and now it seems like you’re using my respect for your wishes as an excuse to withdraw from me.”

“I am not,” whispered Rukia, averting her gaze.

“Rukia, what do you want?” Ichigo kneeled up next to Rukia’s chair, his face level with hers, his gaze unwavering. She stared at the surface of her desk. “You can tell me. I want to know. I want to be able to give it to you.”

Rukia looked like she was struggling to find the words she needed.

“Do you even know what it is that you want?” Ichigo said, low.

She nodded vigorously, looking panicked. Ichigo didn’t say anything, letting the silence and tension stretch. He wanted Rukia to tell him on her own, to discover that she didn’t have anything to fear from him, that he would keep her confidences safe. She lifted her head and squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath, and looked straight at him.

“I don’t want you to be patient.”

Ichigo wasn’t even a little bit surprised that she had reversed her earlier statement.

“I want you to convince me that what you have been telling me is true. I want you to show me how you feel. I need you to...to insist.”

“Is that what you really want? I don’t want you to change your mind again and get pissed at me.”

“No, this is what I always wanted, I was just afraid to tell you.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Rukia,” Ichigo said gently. She laughed shortly.

“Oh, but I do and I am,” she said. “Everything you represent is terrifying.”

“What is it that you think I represent?” Ichigo’s voice dropped as he leaned closer to her. He ached to kiss her.

“Wish-fulfillment. Contentment. Peace. Acceptance. Love,” Rukia closed her eyes, tipping her head back slightly in expectation.

“Those are scary?” Ichigo pulled back, genuinely confused. Rukia opened her eyes, glowering at him.

“It’s frightening to contemplate having things you never thought you could have, and then realize the possibility of losing them.”

“So, wait, you’re avoiding me because you’re scared of losing me? In what universe is that logical?”

“Emotions are not logical!” Rukia snapped.

“Tell me about it,” Ichigo muttered.

“I didn’t realize how foolish it was until I attempted to articulate it to you.”

“I’m sorry, I know I said you could tell me anything. I shouldn’t mock you.”

Rukia looked sidelong at Ichigo, smiling at him. “But if I’m being foolish, you should tell me.”

“You’ve never taken criticism gracefully, why would you start now?”

“Because I am giving you permission to do it. I’m not saying that you need to point it out in front of other people, but yes, tell me if I am being foolish, not making sense.”

“Rukia, you’re being foolish and not making sense,” Ichigo said promptly, and she tugged his hair gently. 

“Baka,” she said, smiling.

“Well, then, I _insist_ that you come see me after dinner tonight,” Ichigo said. Rukia snorted and rolled her eyes.

“I have a meeting to attend. You’re welcome to stay here and study, but I have to go,” Rukia pushed her chair back, but Ichigo caught her wrist and pulled her against him.

“You don’t get to go without giving me a proper goodbye,” he said, tilting Rukia’s face up to his and kissing her, finally, after a three-week drought. It was just as good as he remembered.

**

Rukia did come over after dinner that night, and they sat out on the steps and talked. This was on purpose. Ichigo didn’t know if he was capable of resisting the growing urge to just toss her onto his bed and and do -- well, his lack of experience made it difficult for him to know exactly what aside from the sheer mechanics, but his imagination filled in the blanks vividly. He was reasonably certain that Rukia knew that he wasn’t just interested in the physical aspects of their relationship, but he’d assumed things before when it came to Rukia and his accuracy was pretty uneven. He just wanted her to feel safe with him.

So, outside it was. They watched the sun set and Rukia told him about her childhood and the little gang of street orphans she used to run with. How they died, one by one, of starvation or illness or by violence, leaving just her and Renji. Of how they had decided to enroll in the Soul Academy together, as a way to escape. 

Ichigo was horrified. He had known a little bit about the way Rukia and Renji had grown up, but never the full story. He’d never heard of a childhood so awful.

But he gained a glimmering of an understanding as to why Rukia couldn’t ask for what she wanted. Her life had been so much about taking care of needs that wanting something was a waste of time. Even now, when she _could_ have just about anything, she kept her desires locked up behind a wall of duty and obligation, and the expectation that it could all disappear at any moment.

“What do you do for fun?” he asked her, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. You know, that thing you do when you aren’t working.”

“When I’m not working I am usually sleeping,” Rukia said. 

“Usually up in a tree,” Ichigo added, and she knocked his leg with her shoulder.

“ _Although_ ,” she continued, giving him a mock glare. “I do sometimes spend time with a very interesting and occasionally idiotic man I know.”

Ichigo gave a short, surprised laugh at Rukia’s deadpan flirtatiousness, and she snickered at his discomfiture.

When Rukia decided it was time for her to leave, things felt much better to Ichigo. They had re-established their dynamic, without a weird underlying tension that Ichigo hadn’t even noticed was there until it was gone.

Before she left, Rukia stood on a step between Ichigo’s legs -- between his thighs! -- and gave him a long, comprehensive, kiss goodnight. The effect was instantaneous and Rukia gave what could only be described as a smug chuckle as she turned and walked away.

“Damn tease,” Ichigo muttered.

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to!”

Ichigo stood, getting two steps into his room, and slammed the door shut behind him. He fumbled with the ties on his hakama, and fell to his knees, yanking it and the fundoshi down, bracing himself with his hand on the floor. His other hand sought his cock, gripping it hard and stroking it roughly three or four times, bringing himself to a breathless, messy climax, gasping “Shit, shit, shit.” 

“Damn, I’m pathetic,” Ichigo observed with chagrin after he had come. “Worse, I’m a perv, getting it all over the floor.”

Ichigo wondered if Rukia had the same problem and how she solved it. He scrambled to his feet to soak his entire head in a sink of very cold water. 

Then he cleaned up the mess he made, grumbling to himself the whole time.


End file.
